Let me see." Freckles sat on a log, took his pencil and account-book, and figured on a back page.

He had walked the timber-line ten months.

His pay was thirty dollars a month, and his board cost him eight.

That left twenty-two dollars a month, and his clothing had cost him very little.
At the least he had two hundred dollars in the bank.

He drew a deep breath and smiled at the sky with satisfaction.
"I'll be having a book about all the birds, trees, flowers, butterflies, and----Yes, by gummy! I'll be having one about the frogs--if it takes every cent I have," he promised himself.
He put away the account-book, that was his most cherished possession, caught up his stick, and started down the line.